


Details

by fid_gin



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fid_gin/pseuds/fid_gin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charley is curious about sex with guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Details

**Author's Note:**

> First posted to the [Fright Night Kink Meme](http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html?thread=390862#t390862) to the prompt _Charley is curious about sex with guys. One guy in particular. But he's fairly naïve. So, perhaps after a few drinks, he works up the nerve to ask Peter about it, in general terms, trying not to give away his particular interest. Peter, with his vast knowledge and experience, is happy to educate him (and of course realizes exactly what Charley isn't saying, and maybe calls him on it).  
>  Can lead to smutty good times if you like, obviously, (mmm... educational first time!) but I really want to see this conversation!_
> 
> Originally posted 11/19/2011

It was bound to happen, inevitable probably. But looking back later this evening, Charley will wonder what it was about _this_ particular night, this night when everything changed, when his stay in the now-familiar penthouse at the top of the Hard Rock Hotel  & Casino shifted from a typical visit with Peter into something else. Something new and strange, but oh, so good.

A “typical” visit with Peter means that they're both sitting on the floor pouring through one of his forgotten texts, drinking and talking, conversation casual but charged with the mystery and violence that has become a part of his every day life, now. The book is old and dusty and Charley's head is swimming with alcohol, and as always he can't quite believe it when Peter tilts back his bottle of green liqueur and downs about a third of it before belching loudly.

“Gross, dude,” he says, but he's secretly kind-of impressed.

“You love it,” Peter answers, lighting one of his long, brown cigarettes and flipping another heavy page of the book. It's in some language Charley can't read, but Peter assures him he remembers there's an incantation in it that will reduce a vampire to ashes with only words, and he _believes_ him even though he calls bullshit.

“Who'd you steal that one from?” Charley asks, indicating the book.

“Charley,” Peter says, looking offended. “I'm hurt. I didn't _steal_ any of these, they were gifts. This one, now, was from a former colleague, another illusionist I worked with for awhile. You might say he was feeling rather... _tender_ towards me when he gave it.” Peter _winks_ , and Charley's a little drunk so it takes him a moment before he realizes that yeah, Peter used the pronoun 'he.' “He was an idiot, actually,” Peter continues. “But no gag reflex.” He follows this up with an X-rated leer, and, having caught up, Charley is admittedly shocked. Yeah, Peter's a slut who will flirt with anything or anyone, including Charley himself, but he's never actually heard him talk about sex with guys before. Noticing the expression on his face, the older man ashes his cigarette and cocks his head. “What?”

Charley plays it off like it's no big deal, shrugs. “Nothing, I just...didn't know you were into guys. That's cool, though.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “I'm not _into guys_.” He does the air quotation marks with his fingers at the last two words. “I fuck people I find attractive, which includes some, not many, men.”

“So you're bi,” Charley clarifies, and Peter scoffs at that.

“Fuck, who cares? Bi, straight, gay – it's just sex, man.” He raises one eyebrow dramatically. “Why so interested?”

His thoughts, heavy with ancient spells and the turn this subject has taken, and that disgusting Midori shit he's been drinking with Peter all night, seem to stumble over themselves. Why _is_ he so interested? “No reason, I just...” Charley stammers, not sure how to ask what he wants to ask. “How...I mean, what is it...” He clears his throat. “Like?” he finishes.

“What's it _like_?” Peter repeats, giggling a little. He looks highly amused, and Charley's mortified that he even took the bait and asked, but for some reason the idea, the image of Peter with another man, won't leave his head now that it's there. But the details are lacking, and it's this he is trying to ask for.

“I mean...what...” He can feel blood rising in his cheeks, and he desperately wishes he could rewind this moment about five minutes and bypass the whole thing.

But Peter's not going to let that happen, of course. Crushing out his cigarette, he studies Charley closely. “You want to know what I did with him? My _colleague_?” he purrs, rolling that word around on his tongue and making it sound obscene. He sets the book aside and takes another swig from the bottle. “You want details?”

Charley's almost grateful: maybe this conversation can still be salvaged. They're just two dudes talking about sex, that's all. “Um, yeah.”

“You want to hear about what it was like to kiss another man? To plunge my hands into his hair and taste him and suck his tongue into my mouth?” Discarding the bottle, Peter rolls forward onto his hands and knees, crawling toward him, and all Charley can do is watch. He feels like he's hypnotized, and nods, his mouth hanging open slightly.

When he's crossed the scant few feet between them, Charley thinks maybe Peter's going to kiss him. Maybe he'll _let_ Peter kiss him, because quite honestly Charley doesn't think he'd mind it, not one bit, not if it's like he's describing, but the other man just speaks again, his voice nearly a whisper, inches from Charley's face.

“You want me to tell you about how I sucked his cock and then fucked him? How tight he was, and how he moaned my name?”

_Jesus_. Charley licks his lips, astonished that this is how tonight turned out – sure, Peter's always been, well...flirty with him, but he never thought it was anything more than part of his image. The bad ass leather-clad Master of Darkness who can say anything he wants and fuck anyone he wants, but it's starting to look like there's a lot of truth to Peter's image, because what he's saying has Charley so ridiculously and unexpectedly turned on that his voice is barely more than a squeak when he answers again: “Yeah.”

Gripping his knee, Peter's hand then starts to crawl up his leg like a spider. “Do you want me to tell you all about it, Charley, or do you want me to _show_ you?”

They do kiss, then. And it's just like Peter described. Better.

**

Peter's not going to let oppourtunity pass him by, not with Charley and his badly-disguised interest in sexual exploits with men, and not when the kid looks so fucking _delicious_ with his slight blush and shocked expression. He lunges, and thank God, there's no shout of surprise and disgust, and no bolt for the door: Charley kisses him back, every bit as good as Peter gives.

He tastes like Peter's own beloved Midori and more, something which is just indefinably _Charley_ , and the two together are more intoxicating than any booze or the pharmacy of other substances he's been known to indulge in. When his hand completes its journey up Charley's leg to his groin, and Peter feels the hard length of him straining against those jeans, he decides that really the only logical next step is to find out how the rest of Charley tastes. Except, he's sort-of awkwardly half-in the kid's lap where they're both still on the floor, and it's not very comfortable and not conducive to what he plans to do next.

Reluctantly he breaks the kiss, and fuck, Charley _whimpers_ , chasing Peter's lips again with his own. This is definitely moving to the bedroom. “Bedroom,” he growls out loud, sitting back and pushing himself up onto unsteady legs. The younger man stays seated, looking dazed and unsure, like he would have been more than ready to let Peter fuck him on the floor as long as they didn't have to move into another room and _acknowledge_ what they're about to do.

Oh, shit. This means that Peter has to do something he's very bad at for a moment: be an adult. “Look Brewster,” he starts, “we're not past the point of no return, yet. If you want to forget this, go home, text your girlfriend, play World of Warcraft, whatever it is you do when you're not here, that's fine. But if not...” He shrugs. “Could be fun,” he finishes, keeping his voice light and carefree. When Charley still looks like he's considering after a few seconds, Peter gets impatient and turns to make his way to his bedroom alone. Fuck it, he's not going to beg.

He can't help but grin to himself when he hears the squeak of sneakers and then the pad of footsteps behind him, following him. _Good boy_ , he thinks, adding an extra little swagger to his hips.

Peter would love to take this slow – to savour every moment and unwrap Charley from his jeans and flannel shirt and explore every inch of him and make his first time (with a man, anyway; Charley already filled him in on all the details with Amy, after much prompting) something he'll really remember, the way Peter remembers his. Sleeping rough in his teens, and that surprisingly friendly English punk in his Clash shirt, _Alex_ , who gave him a place to crash for the night, then gave him even more. And after, how they'd lain in bed together, two skinny boys talking about how fucked up life was, and Peter had told him about why he was on the streets. “I believe you,” Alex had said. “I've seen them, too.” A month later he'd vanished, and Peter was out on his own again.

Fucking vamps have seemed to follow him his whole life.

But Charley shrugs out of his flannel shirt, and whips the t-shirt under it over his head and off, and something about how skinny and vulnerable he looks both excites Peter and makes him somehow sad. Even half-drunk as he is he's aware that if he wants this to happen at all and not just shoot in his pants like a fucking kid he needs to move this along. He waits until Charley's down to his boxers then pushes him back onto the bed.

Peter crawls over him, kissing his way down his chest. Charley wiggles a bit when he kisses under his ribs – ticklish – then gasps when he reaches his stomach, nips at his hipbones. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to just pull down those boxers and enthusiastically go to work, but Peter forces himself to wait, to take just one moment to kiss Charley's cock through the thin fabric, to let him feel the pressure of his mouth and his hot breath and the moisture of his tongue through that barrier. Charley groans, fisting his hands in the blankets on either side of them, and without stopping what he's doing Peter reaches out to grab one of those hands and guide it to the back of his head, encouraging the kid to touch him. Charley gets the hint and threads his fingers into Peter's hair, pulling.

Gently easing down his boxer shorts, Peter finally takes him deep into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue, showing off and trying to make this _amazing_ for Charley. And he thinks he's doing a pretty good job, if the sounds Charley's making are anything to go by: he's a moaner, as it turns out, and that's great. Peter _likes_ moaners and screamers – good for the ego.

He gets his hand involved, reaching between Charley's legs to cup his balls, then following his mouth with his fist. Finally, with fingers wet with his own saliva, he slides his hand under Charley's ass and works one digit inside of him, finger-fucking him as he continues to suck. It's over pretty quickly after that, and Charley pulls his hair and cries out as he comes.

When he's done, and Charley's cock starts to soften in his mouth, Peter pulls off and dabs at his lips daintily with the edge of a blanket. “So,” he says, not being able to resist a jibe at the younger man's earlier question, “what was it _like_?”

Charley, eyes still closed and chest still heaving, smiles faintly and flips him off. “Is that it?” he asks. Cheeky little prick.

“Not even close,” Peter answers, holding up a condom in its little paper packet. “Turn over, Chuck. We've got more details to discuss.”


End file.
